


Sniffles and Grumbles

by SansyFresh



Series: Fresh's Babble Collection [41]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pap is a good brother, Sans is stubborn, Sick Fic, Somewhat graphic depictions of illness, swellcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Sans has a past with illness. Papyrus can't know about this one.





	Sniffles and Grumbles

**Author's Note:**

> For Blue :D

It came on slowly, like an annoying itch in the back of his throat that didn’t go away no matter how much water he drank. First his throat itched, then it began to ache, little stabs of pain making it difficult to eat or drink anything substantial. Then his sockets began to itch, the liquid magic that seeped out at random times crusting on the edges. 

 

He tried to deny it to himself, for the first week or so. He couldn’t be sick, not with the responsibilities placed on his shoulders. Not with the other monsters of Snowdin relying on him to make sure they had the safety and food that they needed. But… once his head began to ache and his nasal aperture started to feel stuffed with congealed magic, he had to admit that he was, in fact, sick.

 

His history with illnesses was a bit more serious than he liked to admit. Apparently, even as a babybones he’d been sickly, and as his HP had never risen the nature of his body was off balanced enough that he became sick with some illness or another at least thrice a year. If he was being honest with himself, he was past due a round with the devil, but honesty was hard to come by in the Underground. 

 

He couldn’t let his brother know, if Papyrus found out he was sick he’d be handcuffed to their shared bed, lovingly wrapped in freshly laundered blankets and a bowl of soup, homemade from one of the rabbit families that still had an underground garden instead of the canned stuff, would be right by the bed, steaming as it waited for him to allow his brother to feed it to him.

 

He didn’t have time to be sick. Not when reports were due to the Queen, not when Alphys was struggling with the crime syndicates in Hotland, not when the children of Snowdin were going to bed hungry every other night. So. His brother couldn’t know.

 

Going about his day as if his bones didn’t ache with every movement was difficult, but he’d dealt with worse. Reporting to Alphys took a bit of practice before hand, and though she seemed suspicious, she didn’t call him out. They parted ways with their own missions of the day, Sans’ more to keep an eye on Snowdin’s comings and goings than anything else. He almost wondered if she knew and had lessened his work load for the day accordingly, but either way it didn’t matter much. 

 

His bones ached as he tromped through the snow, the joints pale purple with unspent, sickly magic. None of the other monsters in town would be any wiser, but if Papyrus saw him like this he would know immediately that something was wrong. So, keeping to town rather than checking on the sentries would be the course of action for today.

 

But, of course, the fates were not so kind.

 

Sans rounded a corner, just having helped one of the rabbits clear a new pile of snow from their doorway, struggling to breathe as his nasal passage had become completely clogged. If anyone with any kind of intent saw him like this they would take advantage, but the thought of letting anything get the better of him, even sick as he was, made the nausea building in his bones all the worse. Just as he was about to head towards the Inn to check with the ladies running it and the store next door, the door to Muffet’s opened with a jingle, Papyrus stepping outside, smiling to someone back inside.

 

Panicking, Sans, rightfully not fully in his right mind, turned around and began marching in the other direction. Unfortunately, Papyrus saw him. 

 

“Sans?” The sound of leather boots in the snow slowly coming up behind him made Sans cringe, his steps quickening until the two of them were just outside their own house, Papyrus’ hand landing on his shoulder to keep him from trying to run. “What the fuck, brother? What’s wrong, did I-?”

 

Papyrus’ voice petered out as he turned Sans around, the pale violet flush over his face making it obvious that something was wrong. Papyrus frowned, giving him a searching look that Sans had to look away from. He felt almost guilty for hiding this, even though he still felt as though it had been the right thing to do.

 

“Are you... fucking sick?” Papyrus asked incredulously, Sans answering with a sniffle and a glare.

 

“Yes, I fucking am. I do not have time for this, Papyrus, I have things to do-!” Sans squawked as Papyrus picked him up bodily, slinging him over his shoulder like any sack of potatoes. He struggled, but with the energy he’d used up just walking around all day, there was very little he could do to keep Papyrus from undressing him from his armor and boots and taking him upstairs. 

 

He was right about the handcuffs, Sans thought bitterly as one hand was secured to the bedpost, Papyrus giving him a meaningful look before leaving the room. As if he could put up enough of a fight to leave the house in the first place, honestly bro. There was the sounds of his brother moving about the house, water running and the stove starting up right below him with a loud rumble and a creak that made it sound as if the house was about to fall to pieces around him. 

 

Rolling his eyes, Sans waited with little sniffles until Papyrus returned, a bowl of steaming stew in one hand and a bowl of water and rags in the other. The stew was set to the side to cool, the smell making Sans’ eyes water even as his stomach betrayed him with a rumble. Papyrus chuckled, even as he set down the bowl of water and began gently cleaning Sans’ sockets. They felt much better as the grime was wiped away, the itch receding to something tolerable. Gentle strokes ran over his skull, cleaning away the sweat and dirt from the day. The cloth was traded out for a different one, this one used to clean the congealed magic from between his joints. Sans could only sigh in relief as he felt clean again, though he still couldn’t breathe very well.

 

Papyrus gazed down at him, eyelights soft even as he gave him a look that conveyed his disappointment. Sans sighed, glancing away. There was a chuckle, then the soft clink of teeth against his forehead before Papyrus was picking up the stew, gently blowing on a spoonful.

 

Well. Sans supposed there were worse ways to spend a sickness.


End file.
